


Things I’ve Felt But I Never Said

by mithrel



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ancient Devices, Blanket Permission, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Rimming, Sexual Fantasy, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-07
Updated: 2011-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 03:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney gets saddled with an Ancient artifact that makes him telepathic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things I’ve Felt But I Never Said

The personal shield thing had been bad enough, but this…

It was all Fleischman’s fault. Lorne’s team had found a cache of Ancient artifacts on M3R-948, and Rodney had been sent to investigate with a team of assistants.

Most of the artifacts seemed to be dormant. One of them appeared to be nothing more than a short length of fine gold chain, less than two inches in length. But it was emitting a noticeable energy reading, of a completely unknown type. And, of course, the idiot reached for it.

Rodney had reflexively slapped his hand out of the way, and the thing had latched onto _his_ hand, twining around his middle finger.

He’d tried to get it off, of course, but the ends seemed to have fused together, and the links dug into his skin when he tried.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be draining his energy or anything, like the Iratus bug that attacked Sheppard a couple years ago. Still, Fleischman took him back to the Gate, after advising Carson to have a medical team ready.

When he got back, he was instantly assaulted by murmuring, as if everyone in the Gate room was whispering at once, at the same time penetrating and impossible to make out.

Before he could tell everyone to shut the hell up, Carson was next to him. “It’s OK, Rodney, you’re gonna be OK.”

And he hoisted Rodney’s arm over his shoulder, despite his objections that he could _walk,_ dammit, and headed for the infirmary.

Five minutes later, he was hooked up to all kinds of beeping, clicking, whirring monitors.

“Well, your vital signs seem normal. I want to take an MRI, just to check.” _I know they need a doctor out here, but why did they have to pick me? I’ve never seen anything like this before. What if I can’t get it off him?_

“Well,” Rodney snorted. “That’s reassuring.”

Carson gave him an odd look. “It’s a standard precaution, Rodney.”

He blinked. “What?”

“The MRI.”

“I’m not talking about the MRI, I’m talking about the fact that you apparently have no clue how to get this thing off!”

Carson went white. “W-what did you say?”

“And how should I know why they picked you?”

“Rodney…I didn’t say that,” Carson whispered, looking dead calm.

Rodney blinked. “What? Of course you did, I heard you!”

“You may have heard me, but I didn’t say it.”

It took him a moment to make the connection, then… “Oh, crap.”

***

Carson released him, since, as he said, “There’s nothing medically wrong with you,” but advised him to see Dr. Heightmeyer. Yeah, right. He didn’t need a shrink, he needed a prybar to get this damn thing off.

He was afraid Carson had told people about this, but no one seemed to treat him any differently, or even look twice at him. Elizabeth did pull him aside, though.

“Rodney…is this going to interfere with your work?” _If it is, I’m confining him to quarters until we figure this out, no matter what he says._

He glared. “It won’t interfere with my work, Elizabeth. And confining me to quarters isn’t going to fix the problem.”

The way her eyes widened told him he’d done it again, but she nodded. “Fine. But let me know if–”

He cut her off. “I _will,_ Elizabeth.”

***

It was driving him crazy. He’d learned to tune out the constant background noise, with difficulty, but whenever he was close to a person, he was subjected to their thoughts, no matter how pedestrian, inane or graphic.

Teyla spent a good portion of her time drooling over Ronon’s physique. Ronon, for his part, admired her dedication and loyalty. Rodney wanted to tell them to just get a room already, but then he’d have to explain how he knew about their crushes, which would be problematic. Besides, he wasn’t the base yenta.

Elizabeth spent all her time worrying about the people under her command, and most of the others’ thoughts were along the lines of _Will she like me?_ or _Does the colonel approve of me?_ It was like high-school. Melodramatic, psychic high-school.

Radek was the only one whose thoughts didn’t make him crazy, and also the only one, other than Carson and Elizabeth, who knew what the arm-band did, since he was trying to help remove it. His concentration on what they were actually doing was refreshing.

Unfortunately, they weren’t making any progress. It had only been a week, but he shut himself in his room every night with a feeling of profound relief at the quiet, and he started spending time standing on the balcony on the West Pier, just staring at the water. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. If Rodney was the kind of man to believe in a higher power, he’d be convinced it was out to get him.

And then John Sheppard came back.

***

Sheppard had been called back to Earth for a briefing on–something. Rodney hadn’t really been paying attention.

Rodney didn’t even realize he was back, until he ran into him in the mess hall. He walked over to him, with a vague idea of starting their customary banter, hoping for a touch of normalcy in the bizarreness that was his life lately.

“Colonel, how are things in the old neighborhood?”

Sheppard gave him a crooked smile. “Same as always. Trouble with neighbors throwing wild parties, invading the solar system, that kind of thing.” _Oh God, he’s wearing that black tee again. I just want to–_

And, for the first time, Rodney was assaulted by _images._ _Assaulted,_ because that was what it was. He had no way to defend himself.

Sheppard, running his hands under his shirt, scratching his nails down his back, sucking on his neck right above the t-shirt, pulling back to practically tear it off–

Shocked, Rodney managed to somehow jerk himself out of it.

Dimly, he heard, through the roaring in his ears, “McKay? You alright?” _Why is he looking at me like that?_

“Fine,” Rodney managed, swallowing. “I’m…fine. But I have a lot of work to do, and I’m sure you’re tired–”

Sheppard nodded. “I was just grabbing something to eat before I hit the sack.” More torrid images accompanied that statement.

“Yes, well…work. Very…important,” Rodney babbled, and fled.

***

He found his way back to his quarters, the door _whoosh_ -ing shut behind him. Rodney leaned against the wall, his knees threatening to give way.

He’d been subjected to other people’s fantasies every so often in the last week, but it had never been like _that._ He’d never _seen_ it.

More importantly, none of them had been fantasizing about _him._

 _Sheppard._ Of all people likely to fantasize about him (and he admits there aren’t liable to be many)…

He knew the American military was incredibly narrow-minded, and soldiers had to be careful if they weren’t 100% straight, but _Sheppard…_ He had a Kirk-complex, for God’s sake!

Rodney tried to tell himself that the strain of the stupid ring had gotten to him, that he was hallucinating…but he’d never thought of Sheppard like _that._ And the images had been too detailed to be anything but real.

Which meant he was in deep shit.

***

The first thing he did was go to Elizabeth, since now that Sheppard was back they’d start going on missions again, and he shuddered to think what would happen if he got distracted at a critical moment.

“I thought you said this wouldn’t interfere with your work. Has something changed?”

“No, nothing’s changed. I just think it would be better if I didn’t go on missions until we get this thing off.”

Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “There are situations offworld when telepathy could be an asset.”

 _Yes, but when your team leader is having sexual fantasies about you is_ not _one of them!_

“I just think–”

“If Dr. Beckett thinks it’s not advisable for you to be on active duty I’ll consider it. But I don’t think there will be any problems.”

Rodney nodded. He knew Carson wouldn’t find anything wrong with him.

So he went to see Radek, in the hope that he’d figured out how the ring worked.

***

Radek hadn’t found anything. (“This is like no technology we’ve seen before. We could study it for months and be no closer to a solution.”) and Carson didn’t see why he couldn’t go on missions. (“Your stress-level is up slightly, but nothing dangerous.”) so he was stuck going offworld.

With Sheppard.

It wasn’t as bad as he’d been afraid of. Sheppard had a remarkably one-track mind on missions: Do the Recon/Make the Alliance/Find the Technology and Get My People Out Safe.

But his mind tended to wander during briefings, and Rodney didn’t appreciate seeing himself on all fours, Sheppard fucking him open with his tongue, or tied to a bed as Sheppard rode him, while he was supposed to be hearing their mission.

He _also_ didn’t appreciate the fact that not only was Sheppard apparently a kinky bastard, in every scenario he was the aggressor, while all Rodney did was sit there and take it. He should know him better than that.

It went on that way for another two weeks, suffering the fantasies during briefings, and Sheppard’s aforementioned Kirk-complex whenever they met an attractive woman.

Until Radek figured it out.

***

“It’s the Ancient gene. The ring was still active, but it must only be usable by someone who carries the ATA gene! You said Fleischman reached for it–”

“But it wouldn’t have affected him, since the gene therapy didn’t take,” Rodney finished sourly.

“It also explains why it didn’t transfer to me, despite my close examination,” Radek continued.

“This is just a theory. You’ve got no proof. And even if that is the reason, how do we get the thing off?”

“I’ll talk with Dr. Beckett. He may be able to come up with something.”

Rodney snorted. Given how long it took to develop the gene therapy in the first place, and their limited success, he wasn’t holding his breath.

***

It took a surprisingly short time for Carson to figure it out.

He held out a vial of clear liquid. “This serum should temporarily suppress the gene–”

“How temporarily?” Rodney cut him off. The last thing he needed was to be stuck not able to affect the majority of devices and controls on Atlantis.

“Hopefully long enough for the ring to come off. Don’t worry,” Carson added. “We can always give you another copy of the gene later.”

“And this won’t suppress that one?”

“It shouldn’t. It’ll clear your system fairly quickly.”

Rodney grimaced. There were far too many _maybe_ s in this, but he was desperate. So he sat down on one of the beds and let Carson swab his arm, wincing as the needle went in.

Carson put a Band-Aid on the injection site, while Rodney waited tensely. A few minutes went by and nothing happened. “How long is this going to–”

He broke off as the loop separated and the chain fell to the bed. The constant mental background noise immediately cut off. “Oh, thank God,” he breathed. Now he could have a conversation with Sheppard without running away three words into it.

Carson motioned to one of his assistants. “Nurse Olmstead, if you’d be so kind…”

A redheaded nurse picked up the chain and put it in a sealed container. She must not have had the gene, since it didn’t react.

“How are you feeling?”

Rodney sighed. “It’s quiet.”

Carson smiled. “Go get some rest.”

When Rodney got to his quarters, he fell asleep almost immediately, in contrast to the past two weeks, where he lay awake worrying, and slept so deeply he didn’t remember dreaming.

***

His life was back to normal now–or as normal as it ever got–except for his awkwardness around Sheppard.

The colonel had asked him a few times what was wrong, and seemed hurt when all he got in response was a curt, “Nothing!”

But what could he do? It wasn’t like he could tell Colonel Sheppard, “Oh yeah, sorry if I’m acting weird around you, but I’m busy wondering if you’re fantasizing about me while we’re talking!”

Worse than that, was the fact that the images stuck. He couldn’t care less about any of the other thoughts he’d picked up–more than half of them were things he knew anyway, or could have figured out with a moment’s thought. But this–

This was an invasion of privacy.

And, much as he hated the idea, he owed it to Sheppard to tell him.

***

He procrastinated, making excuses not to talk to Sheppard. He’d almost lost his friendship after the Arcturus debacle, and he was afraid that this time Sheppard wouldn’t want anything to do with him, even though it wasn’t _his_ fault that he’d been attacked by telepathy-causing costume jewelry.

But finally he decided to bite the proverbial bullet.

When Rodney showed up at Sheppard’s quarters, he looked surprised. Rodney supposed he couldn’t blame him. He’d been avoiding him as much as possible lately.

“Colonel.”

“McKay.”

The silence stretched. “Could…I come in?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sheppard moved aside, and Rodney brushed by him as he entered, swallowing. He could do this.

“So,” Sheppard said after a moment.

Rodney didn’t take the offered opening. “So.”

Sheppard sighed impatiently.

“You know that ring I’ve been wearing?” Rodney began, not sure how to approach this.

Sheppard nodded. “Yeah, noticed it when I got back. I’ve never seen it before.” He shot a glance at Rodney’s arm. “You’re not wearing it now, though.”

“No…the thing is, it wasn’t an ordinary ring.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No…see there were these artifacts on M3R-948…”

“What did you do now, McKay?”

“Excuse me? Why do you assume this is _my_ fault?”

“Because whenever anyone begins a story with ‘Mysterious Alien Artifact,’ it’s _always_ their fault!”

“If you must know, I kept it from attaching to one of my techs!” No need to tell Sheppard that it wouldn’t have attached to him anyway.

“And it stuck?”

Rodney sighed. “It stuck.”

Sheppard shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “You have the worst luck.”

“You should talk, Mr. Wraith-Magnet!”

It was nice, bantering with Sheppard. Normal. He hated to destroy that.

“You said it wasn’t just a ring,” Sheppard said, taking the decision out of his hands.

Rodney nodded. “It…apparently makes the wearer telepathic.”

The lingering smile disappeared off Sheppard’s face as if it was one of those magnetic drawing boards for kids. “Telepathic.”

“Yeah,” Rodney said, misery tight in his gut.

“How telepathic?”

“When there are–were–a lot of people around there was background noise, a kind of hum…and when I was near one or two people I could hear their thoughts.”

“So you heard–”

“Saw,” Rodney cut him off.

“Excuse me?”

“Look, I don’t know if it was because they were particularly intense, or because you have the Ancient gene, or what, but I saw…what you were thinking,” he finished lamely.

Sheppard brought his hands up to cover his face. “Oh, God.”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t tell anyone about this!” Sheppard said urgently. “I could lose my job, if–”

“Relax, Colonel. I won’t tell anyone you’re–“ he paused. “Gay? Bi?”

“Does it _matter?_ ” Sheppard snarled.

Rodney shrugged. “Guess not. Look, the American military is backward. Gay people are allowed to serve in Canada and we haven’t had a problem.”

Sheppard managed a strained smile. “I dunno about that.”

“Look, Colonel…John,” Rodney said, the name feeling strange on his lips, “I’m not going to out you.”

Sheppard relaxed. “Thanks, Rodney.”

The silence stretched. “So…are we okay?” Sheppard ventured after a while.

“I guess we have to be, don’t we? I mean, we work together.”

“Right,” Sheppard said, running a hand through his hair and resting it behind his neck. “Look, can we just…pretend this conversation never happened?”

Rodney shrugged again. “If you want.”

Sheppard gave a deep sigh. “Thanks, Rodney,” he said again, a noticeable tremor in his voice.

Rodney nodded, and left.

***

That should have been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

It was bad enough that Sheppard’s fantasies were replaying themselves in his mind, in 3D Technicolor, awake and asleep.

No, he had to start having fantasies of his _own._

He’d wake up flushed and sweating, the memory of fucking Sheppard against the wall burned into his skin.

Or find himself drifting into daydreams of blowing Sheppard in the shower while he was at lunch with the team.

That was bad enough, but seeing Sheppard flirting with the latest alien-of-the-week, _knowing_ he was imagining her naked…the man was more Kirk than Shatner.

It got to the point that Teyla had to elbow him to keep him from shooting death-glares at the magistrate’s daughter, who was draped liquidly over John’s arm and _giggling._

There was nothing Rodney detested more than giggling.

Unless it was simpering, which was also much in evidence.

“Rodney,” Teyla hissed, elbowing him again.

“ _What?!_ ” he snarled back, sotto voce.

“You are going to disrupt the negotiations…”

“Oh yeah, I’ll _bet_ he wants to ‘negotiate’ with her,” Rodney muttered, but subsided at Teyla’s glare.

***

Apparently Teyla wasn’t the only one who’d noticed, because Sheppard came to his quarters.

“Rodney.”

“Colonel,” Rodney shot back, in no mood to talk to him, not after he’d stayed overnight at the festival to celebrate the successful trade (“Someone has to, Rodney, it’s for _us._ ”) and made the rest of them go back to Atlantis.

“Do we have a problem?”

“No problem, Colonel,” Rodney said, not even trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Really? Because you almost shot Ronon when he came up behind you yesterday.”

“He’s too quiet!” Rodney protested. “There’s no way someone that big should move like some sort of Neanderthal ninja!”

Sheppard shook his head and crossed his arms. “I repeat: Do. We. Have. A. Problem?”

“No. We. Do. Not,” Rodney mocked him.

“Dammit, Rodney!”

“I’m perfectly capable of performing my duties, Colonel, without sharing your appreciation for the fairer sex!” Shit, had he said that? What did that even _mean?_

Sheppard cocked his head. “Is that what this is about? The girls flirting with me?”

“No, Colonel Playboy, this is about you flirting with the girls. Every. Single. _One_ of them!”

“It helps with the negotiations, Rodney. Besides, why should you care? It never bothered you this much before!”

“Yes, well, that was before I was subjected to your fantasies in graphic detail!” Rodney snapped.

Sheppard’s mouth fell open, and an incredulous grin spread across his face. “You’re jealous!”

“What? I am not!” He’d been talking about his fantasies about the girls, not…

Sheppard’s smile softened. “You have no reason to be jealous, Rodney.”

“I know I don’t, and I wouldn’t have been, until I was subjected to your sexual view of me, which is entirely inaccurate by the way, and it’s in my head, and I can’t sleep without–“ He snapped his mouth shut in horror. _Why_ did he open his mouth when he was flustered, he _knew_ his babbling got him in trouble.

Sheppard’s eyes widened. “Without…” he prompted.

Rodney shook his head, tight-lipped.

“You said it’s in your head,” Sheppard continued. “Have you been–?”

“No, I haven’t!” Hadn’t been fantasizing about his stupid hair, or his stupid smile, or his stupid eyes that transmitted his emotions so easily.

“You have, haven’t you?” The words were surprisingly quiet, rather than gloating.

“It’s not my fault! You planted the idea!”

“But that’s not all it is, is it?” Sheppard pressed, and _damn_ his perceptiveness anyway!

“I told you your view of me was inaccurate!”

“Really?” John said, “Care to enlighten me?”

“ _No,_ Colonel, I don’t! I may not have much self-respect, but I don’t intend to be just another notch on your belt!”

John wrinkled his brow. “What makes you think that’s all it would be?”

“Well, maybe you haven’t noticed, Colonel, but you don’t exactly have a reputation for commitment!”

“How can I? The only people I see on a regular basis are in the city!”

“Well, I can understand why you wouldn’t want to work with your jilted lovers–”

John clenched his fists at his sides. “It’s not like that!”

“Then why don’t you tell me what it _is_ like?”

“I would, if you would just _shut the fuck up_ for two seconds at a time!”

Surprised at his outburst, Rodney snapped his mouth shut.

Sheppard looked at the floor, then fisted his hands in his hair, sighed and looked at the ceiling. “The flirting offworld–it’s not serious. I never _slept_ with any of them, not even when I was stuck in that commune for six months!” He paused suddenly, as if thinking of something, then continued, “Well, except for Chaya. And that wasn’t sex…exactly.” He fidgeted, looking more uncomfortable than Rodney had ever seen him.

“I didn’t care about any of them,” John mumbled into his shirt.

The words were so quiet Rodney was sure he’d misheard. “Excuse me?”

“I said I didn’t _care_ about any of them! </i> John repeated, his head snapping up, eyes flashing.

Rodney opened and shut his mouth a few times. “And you…care…about me?” he finally managed.

“Yes, dammit, I do.” Soft, broken.

“John–” Rodney stopped, not sure what to say, but it was enough, since he’d almost never called him anything but “Colonel” or “Sheppard” before.

John came to him, put a hand on his face, leaned in and kissed him, soft, like he wasn’t sure of his welcome. Rodney kissed him back eagerly.

He’d been relaxing–well as much as he ever did–when John came to see him, his jacket slung over a chair. He was in just his T-shirt, and John wasted no time in tearing it off, just like he had in Rodney’s first vision.

After Rodney brought his arms down, John kissed him again, running his hands down his back, then grabbing his ass and pulling him closer.

Rodney pulled away, unzipping John’s jacket and pushing it off his shoulders, leaving him in just his T-shirt. And for the first time he had to agree with John–looking at him in the form-fitting shirt, his lips swollen, hair mussed and eyes wild–it was a hell of a turn-on.

He pulled down the neck of John’s T-shirt and set about sucking a hickey onto his skin–below the collarbone, where it wouldn’t show.

“God, Rodney…”

The shirt was sexy, but it was in his way, so he got rid of it, and now John’s hair was a _complete_ mess.

“What do you want?” John breathed against his lips, and for a moment he didn’t comprehend the words.

“What?”

John pulled away slightly, sitting on the bed to untie his boots. “You said my sexual view of you was inaccurate, so I don’t want to assume you’ll like something. So what do you want?”

Rodney’s first impulse was to suggest one of the fantasies that had been running through his dreams, but he remembered one of John’s fantasies–one which had, inexplicably, stayed with him. But he couldn’t ask for _that…_

“Your…your mouth,” he finally stuttered.

John smiled softly. “You want me to blow you?”

“I…no, I–” he stopped, horribly embarrassed.

John looked confused for a second, then comprehension spread across his face. “You sure?”

“No.”

John nodded. “Let me know right away if you don’t like it.”

Rodney snorted. “Did you forget who you were talking to?”

John barked a laugh, then got rid of the rest of his clothes.

Rodney just stood there, suddenly overcome by nerves. John looked up at him and rolled his eyes, then knelt in front of him and unfastened his pants.

Rodney gulped, seeing John, naked, on his knees before him, feeling his hands brushing over him.

But John moved down to his boots, untying them. “Lift up,” he said and he lifted his feet one at a time, letting John take off his boots and socks.

Once he was barefoot, John stood up, leaving Rodney to take off his own pants and briefs.

“Get on the bed,” he said softly, once Rodney was naked.

He seized up again, realizing that he was actually inviting Sheppard to–

John noticed. “If you don’t want to do this–”

“No,” Rodney cleared his throat, tried again. “No, I want to.”

He knelt on the bed, then moved up until he was on his hands and knees, realizing just how vulnerable this position was.

The mattress dipped as John sat next to him.

He flinched when John put a hand on his back.

“Relax,” John whispered. “Do you trust me?”

 _Do you trust me._ Simple words, but profound. “Yes.”

John worked up to what he’d asked for, which Rodney was profoundly thankful for, kissing each knob of his spine, sucking one side of his ass, then licking over it to ease the sting. Rodney’s breath hitched at that.

“Relax,” John repeated. “You ready?”

 _No._ “Y-yeah.”

Rodney tried not to stiffen as John spread his cheeks. Again, John went slow, kissing his way down between his cheeks, then just letting his breath ghost against him.

The anticipation was worse than anything John could possibly do. But, after a moment he licked a long line from the base of his ass to the top.

Rodney stiffened, an unbelievable jolt going through him, and whimpered.

“You OK?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know!”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Can I…get back to you on that?”

John laughed, his breath puffing against him again, and repeated the motion.

Rodney managed not to whimper this time, but he did fist his hands in the sheets.

The third time John did it, he pushed back against him, reflexively.

John pressed directly against his opening then, massaging him, and Rodney degenerated into half-coherent obscenities and pleas.

When John actually pushed his tongue _inside,_ Rodney thought he was going to dissolve completely. He fucked back against him, as John went as deep as he could.

When he snaked a hand around his waist to stroke him in time with the thrusts of his tongue, Rodney couldn’t take it anymore. He came, and came _hard,_ yelling so loudly he was glad no one wanted to live in the same section as he did.

With a final kiss to his asshole, Sheppard pulled back.

Rodney collapsed into the mess underneath him, disgusted at the mess underneath him, at what he’d let Sheppard do, at what Sheppard had _wanted_ to do, but too boneless and sated to care much.

It was a few minutes before John came back. He rolled him off the spot on the mattress, cleaned him up with a damp, warm cloth, and leaned down to kiss him.

Rodney instinctively winced back, but John’s breath was fresh. He must have brushed his teeth when he got the cloth, or at least swished with mouthwash.

He wasn’t feeling particularly urgent about anything at the moment, but by the way he kissed, John was. That’s when Rodney realized he hadn’t come yet.

He gave him an evil look. “Against the wall.”

John blinked at him. “What?”

“Up against the wall. Now.”

John raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told. Rodney got on his knees in front of him, paused a moment to collect himself, then took hold of the base of John’s cock and guided it into his mouth.

He really had no idea what he was doing, but John didn’t seem to mind. He just held him in his mouth for a moment, not moving, then cautiously eased down as far as he could.

John didn’t push, but his hands came up, trying to grab his hair and largely failing. Rodney was glad he kept his hair short, since he didn’t want John taking over, at least not this time. John, though. He had good hair for grabbing, and he probably wouldn’t mind…

Rodney wrenched his thoughts back to what he was doing, pulling back and licking over the head. John’s hips stuttered up at that, and he made a small noise.

Rodney wanted to hear that noise again, so he darted his tongue out again. John pushed forward at that, and Rodney pulled back, coughing.

“Sorry,” John said, as Rodney caught his breath.

“It’s fine.” But he didn’t go back to blowing him, instead nuzzling down to lick at John’s balls.

“ _God!_ ”

Rodney refrained from making a smart comment, licking up one side of John’s shaft and over the head, then kissing down the other and then doing the same in reverse.

“Fuck…Rodney…”

He recognized the signs, and pulled back and to the side enough to avoid being splattered when John came.

John thunked his head against the wall, then slid down it. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Rodney shrugged. “Just another natural talent, I guess.”

John snorted, and shoved him, almost tipping him over, before he got up, then stood looking awkwardly around the room. “So…what now?”

It was Rodney’s turn to snort. “Well, _you’ve_ made a considerable mess. You need a shower.”

John’s eyes glinted. “Care to join me?”

Rodney smirked at him. “I’d planned on it.”


End file.
